Paradox Rising
by Dahlia Bellona
Summary: A Courtesan Assassin from the year 2012 blacks out after touching the Shroud of Turin, and wakes up in the year 1774. She meets Connor and Achilles and asks for help to get home, because the world is coming to an end...but she's got an attraction to the stoic assassin...and apparently is a part of a bigger problem than she originally had.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_August, 2012-Easter Island, South Pacific Ocean_

The batteries in the flashlight couldn't have run out at a more inconvenient time. Maya Hotu's eyes were beginning to hurt from using her Eagle Vision for so long. Sure, it was great to be able to see in the dark, with it acting as though she had infrared vision, but her eyes were beginning to hurt from keeping the ability active for so long. Being in a cave that she had to rappel from the cliff side wasn't making it any easier, either. The narrow tunnel reduced Maya to her hands and knees as she crawled along the cold and moist stone, in search for what her enhanced senses would reveal to her as the golden target. There were times she _hated _being an Assassin-and this was definitely a time she hated it. She should be out hunting Templars, not looking for some ancient artifact that the Assassin Order had close to no knowledge about. The Shroud of Turin was a mysterious piece of Eden, capable of such great power that it could even resurrect the dead. The only other thing the Order knew about it-or _heard _about it-was that those with her type of DNA were the only beings capable of handling it.

But, her sense of duty to the Order she was raised within, along with a possible end of the world, created the urgency for Maya needing to find the ancient artifact. Her mother was the last Assassin to look for the Shroud shortly after Maya was born, but she had disappeared mysteriously while on her quest to retrieve it—a fact that didn't infuse any more comfort into Maya. Apparently, the Order was willing to sacrifice Maya to whatever fate she had on her own quest for the stupid thing-but then again, they were losing their centuries' old war with the Templars, and humanity could cease to exist within a few weeks. "You doin' alright?" Joseph, a member of her team keeping watch on the cliffs, broke her trail of thoughts as he spoke to her through the small earpiece in her ear.

Maya stopped to adjust the backpack strapped to her back, and wiped the loose strands of her black hair out of her face. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, straining to stay focused amidst the slight pain developing in her head, from keeping the enhanced sense activated for so long. "Yeah, fine. I should almost be to the Shrine." She answered.

She opened her eyes, and continued to push herself forward. At least this wasn't another of her Courtesan missions. Maya would rather be doing something for the Order other than seducing Templars in exchange for information before she killed them. A girl can only take so many looks of betrayal from Templars she had killed-sometimes brutally-who could have possibly been good fathers, sons, or brothers-if only they didn't choose the wrong side. She had constantly cursed her position as a Courtesan. They were supposed to be an order of female Assassins specifically trained in a certain style of killing their targets, or even infiltration. But, now they were trained to complete their missions using _any _means possible. _More like damned prostitutes._

Maya gritted her teeth. She had never wanted to be a Courtesan; she was supposed to have been the one infiltrating Abstergo Industries to rescue Desmond after he was captured, but _no_. She knew Lucy Stillman would have lost her soul as a Courtesan. Maya liked Lucy, and so she couldn't let her take the position as a Courtesan. Maya figured she'd already lost her own soul piece by piece…_Yeah. No big deal_. Now, with Lucy dead, because she was set to betray the Assassins, they were royally _screwed_. Who knows? Maybe Lucy would have been alive still, had she not been exposed to the Templar bastards.

_Whatever_.

What's done is done, and Maya couldn't change a damned thing, even if she wanted to. Crawling on her hands and knees through a cave was definitely a break from the up close and personal killings that Maya had done as a Courtesan Assassin. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Maya's eyes spotted the golden target: a small stone case, that sat atop an altar made of stone that had carvings of ancient Rapa-Nui designs intricately carved into the stone. She finally deactivated her enhanced vision, as she stood up to her feet. Maya cautiously walked towards the altar that was illuminated only by the two torches that stood in either side. She could still hear the roar of the ocean from outside as the sounds of the waves crashing against the jetties bounced off the cave walls.

A chill ran up her arms under the sleeves of her black top, as she stared at the small case. A carving of the _Rongorongo _glyph for the number _9_ was engraved on the top of the case. It was the writing of her ancestors; glyphs that had yet to be deciphered by modern archeologists, due to her ancestors destroying any way of translation. Maya was taught to decipher the glyphs by her father; a secret that was only to be kept within her family. The glyphs were the writings taught to her ancestors by the First Civilization, to keep the secrets that needed to be guarded by her people. "I found the Shrine." She told Joseph through her com link.

Maya gently touched her fingertips to the carving, but snapped her fingers back with alarm as the carving sucked into the stone top. The top moved on its own as it pulled back from the case. Her gaze moved up from the altar, following the lines of bright gold that sprouted from behind the altar, and wove their way up along the walls. The lines spread out, surrounding Maya, encasing her from the cave she stood in. More of the ancient glyphs of her people appeared around her in gold holograms as the Shroud of Turin hovered over its case, ready for the taking. A figure materialized at the side of the altar; a woman that was easily a foot taller than Maya, dressed in white, with a large crown atop her head of long black hair. The woman's black eyes peered down at Maya. "You've finally come. We've waited a long time for you, Daughter of Eve."

Maya narrowed her eyes up at the glowing woman. She heard the women in her lineage being referred to as the _Daughters of Eve_—the descendants of the infamous first female hybrid, known as Eve. Cautiously, Maya stepped towards the woman, resisting the urge to touch her to see if she was real. "Who are you?" Maya asked her.

"I am Minerva, the seeing eye of our people. We have waited a long time for you, Maya."

Minerva—also the common personification of the Goddess of Wisdom; but to the Assassins and Templars, she was one of the Capitoline Triad; the last of the First Civilization that promoted peace during the Human-Hybrid Rebellion. Maya remembered her from the sessions Desmond Miles had in the animus; it was because of her, that the Assassins found out about the world ending in the first place. Maya's attention turned to her surroundings; golden holographic images of _Rongorongo _glyphs floated around her aimlessly, along with numbers that looked to be binary code. She looked back to Minerva. "Why have you waited for _me_? I thought you only communicated with Desmond's ancestors?" Maya waved her hand to gesture to the floating glyph at her side, "And where the hell am I?"

"You are in what is known as the Nexus. Here, calculations are made so the proper path may be chosen. You are a daughter of Eve, the one that was foreseen to be the pure reason for change; the eye of _your _kind."

That was no big surprise; Maya knew she descended from the first human hybrid. It was the other portion of Minerva's revelation that confused her. "What do you mean the eye of _my _kind?" Maya threw her hands up, in a gesture to stop Minerva from answering the question. It's not like the woman was _going _to. The ancient beings were frustrating enough, giving cryptic messages that left the Order scrambling like fools trying to figure them out. "Wait, don't answer that." She then let her arms fall to her sides. "Look, the world is coming to an end, and I need to do my part in saving it by taking the artifact, and be on my way." She reached her hand towards the folded Shroud of Turin, but stopped as Minerva spoke.

"Take the artifact, and you will embark on your true destiny set out for you and for the world around you. Leave the artifact, and it will remain hidden, and the world will be destroyed. But, be warned: what is done _cannot _be undone."

Well that was a no-brainer. Save the world, or let it be destroyed? _Duh_. Maya scoffed, shaking her head in contempt for the ancient woman standing in front of her. "I was born into an Order _created _to be guardians of these artifacts, as charged by _you_!" Maya's hazel colored eyes darkened with determination. "I _will _fulfill my duty as an Assassin."

"You will also fulfill your destiny as the Daughter of Eve and the Mother of Change." Minerva added. Her lips upturned slightly into what Maya could only tell were a small smile.

Maya had clenched her fingers for a moment, contemplating what Minerva had just said. She had no idea what Minerva had meant by referring to her as a _Mother of Change_. But, time was running out; it was time Maya didn't have to spend shooting the breeze with a hologram of an ancient woman. "I'm prepared to have this done with." Maya snapped at her as she touched the Shroud.

A sharp pain bolted through her fingertips, up her arm, and spread throughout the rest of her body as she froze into a state of paralysis. The Shroud disappeared from her fingertips as soon as the pain subsided, releasing her from her frozen state. Maya was engulfed in a blinding light as a dull pain pulsed in her mind, causing her to drop to her knees. She slammed her hands to her head, clenched her eyes shut, and resisted the urge to scream. This _had _to have been the experience that her mother had gone through. Now, it was pretty clear that Maya would meet the same fate as her mother. The killer headache had calmed, only to plunge Maya into darkness-a darkness that Maya couldn't accept. Not with the world's destruction just around the corner. Joseph's muffled voice came through the com link just before Maya fell into unconsciousness. "Maya! What's happening?!" Maya closed her eyes, and didn't answer him. "Maya!"

* * *

_Homestead Davenport, Boston, 1774_

Connor Kenway's legs felt like weights as he made his way up the small incline of the hill that led to the manor. Homestead Davenport was a place he came to call home since he was taken in by Achilles Davenport. He should be at peace as he always had whenever he came back to the Homestead. And why shouldn't he? Dumping the tea over the ships within Boston harbor had felt like a victory. The colonists that were outraged over the incredulous taxation cheered as he and the Boston recruits of the Brotherhood assisted Samuel Adams and the Sons of Liberty. William Johnson, the Templar behind the smuggling of the crates they had destroyed, could no longer purchase-actually _steal _would be the correct word-the land of his people. The colonist rebels had sent a message to the British Crown overseas, and his people were safe from the land acquisition due to the elimination of Johnson's financial source. He remembered the Templar watching him as he held out the last crate of Johnson's tea over the water, and as Connor flashed him an arrogant smirk, he let the box drop from his hands into the water. It was a message to Johnson; to let him know that his operation was _over_.

_Kill two birds with one stone._

But, for some reason, as Connor paused in front of the door leading into the manor, he couldn't help but contemplate if he had made a mistake. Since he began living with Achilles when he was only fifteen years old, Connor was taught that _killing _the Templars was the only way to eliminate the threat. Telling Achilles that he had spared Johnson's life would displease the old man. However there was no need to kill the Templar if his financing had been destroyed. Johnson wouldn't be foolish enough to try again.

Lifting his chin up, Connor assured himself in his decision. It was done; over. Nothing more needed to be done against Johnson. The Templars understood the message Connor had sent. He opened the door to the manor, expecting to see the Old Man waiting for him in the entryway. But the hallway was empty. Closing the door behind him, Connor stepped into the hallway, glancing to the office at his left, and to the sitting room at his right, but his brow furrowed when he found them both empty. "Old Man?" He called out.

He was answered with silence and eyes moved up to look ahead of him to the door that led to the back of the manor, to the point overlooking the cliffs. Connor suddenly realized that Achilles was more than likely still meditating, which was something the Old Man had done every sunrise. Hopefully the meditation calmed Achilles enough to avoid the berating that Connor didn't want. He hated disappointing his mentor.

Connor made his way through the hall towards the back doorway. He took a deep breath, preparing himself. Arguing with Achilles was not something he kept on his list of daily tasks. Connor respected him as a man and Assassin, and tried his best not to upset him, however there were instances when Connor couldn't contain his youthful temper. Achilles had tried to instill patience into Connor, but frustration would easily take over. Connor wanted Charles Lee dead; he was a threat to Connor's people, and the people of the Colonies. However, Achilles insisted that he was not ready to face Charles Lee-or his own father, Haytham Kenway-just yet. And the more time Connor spent trying to learn _patience_, the more time the Templars had to spread throughout the Colonies. He wanted to do the right thing; and the right thing was to go after Lee and Haytham and ensure they couldn't harm any more people.

But, at the same time, it felt good to be able to know he wasn't alone in the fight for freedom. The three men he recruited in Boston-Stephane Chapheau, Duncan Little, and Clipper Wilkinson- helped tremendously in the liberation of the districts within Boston. Together, alongside Samuel Adams, they began to rally as many as they could to speak out for themselves. Stephane was especially enthusiastic about causing riots throughout the city. This at least would be good news to Achilles. Connor finally opened the door, and looked to the cliffs and saw Achilles, with his back turned to him, sitting atop a boulder, facing out to the water. He walked out to his mentor, and prepared himself for a scolding, as he rounded Achilles' perch. "It is done." Connor finally told him.

He watched the old man for any reaction. Connor didn't _lie _to Achilles; he only said three simple words, and had hoped Achilles would leave it at that. _No luck_. "Johnson is dead?" The old man finally asked after a few seconds of silence.

Connor turned his face away from Achilles' as he paced in front of his mentor. "No." He winced at the wavering tone in his voice. No doubt the old man had caught it. Connor tilted his head to look at Achilles. "He retreated when we destroyed the tea." He explained.

He saw the old man's eyes darken as he narrowed them at Connor. "Only to hatch a new scheme, I'm sure." Achilles said quietly. Connor looked away from him. At least the old man was trying to hold in his anger. "You should have _killed _him."

The statement had told Connor his decision was a mistake. Achilles had expected Johnson to be dead. Connor paced the ground in front of Achilles, and felt the intensity of Achilles' stare. He had hated disappointing him; but there were just some things that were unnecessary in Connor's eyes. "There was no need." Connor told him, as he lifted his shoulder in a slight shrug.

Of course there still was the possibility that Johnson could try and think of something else; but Connor felt he sent a clear message. But when he heard the small snort of disbelief from Achilles, he knew the old man felt different. He _always _seemed to feel different; whereas Connor felt the need to do things one way, Achilles stuck with traditions of the Order and did it _his _way. "Time will tell if you speak the truth." Achilles said flatly.

Connor grimaced and decided it was time to walk away. He made his way to the manor, trying to reassure himself that he did the right thing. He'll prove to the old man that he knew what he was doing; times were changing around them both, and Connor hoped that he could instead just move forward on his hunt for Charles Lee and Haytham Kenway. 

* * *

The bright light burst through the darkness that consumed Maya as her eyes shot open and she took a grateful gulp of air. Rolling to her side, she coughed at the sudden intake of air. As the coughing fit subsided, she rolled to her hands and knees. She had finally caught her breath, and looked up, taking in her new surroundings. The sounds of crickets chirping had filled her ears, with the howl of a wolf in the distance. She felt the cool dirt beneath her palms, and frowned. She bent her legs beneath her, sitting back, and examined her surroundings again. She was surrounded by trees that had just begun growing their leaves. It was already nightfall, and only the moon in the night sky had provided any kind of light. _Shit_.

She reached her arm back around to make sure her backpack had still been on her back. _Check_. Maya gripped one of the straps, bringing the bag around to the ground in front of her. She unzipped it, quickly taking an inventory. Bottled water-_check_; rock climbing tools-_check_; hidden blade bracers on her wrists-_check_; snacks-_c__heck_. Shroud of Turin-_shit_. That was missing. Maya placed her hand to her forehead, trying to recap what had happened before blacking out to unconsciousness. She remembered finding the Shroud in the purity cave to the Virgin Goddess on Easter Island; then the woman herself made an appearance, warning Maya about taking the Shroud; and then-she _touched _the Shroud, and blacked out. _Son of a bitch_! Maya clenched her hands, and slammed her fists down onto her thighs in frustration. The blasted thing was within her reach, and she passes out. _Some Assassin_.

As Maya stood to her feet, strapping her backpack over her back, she turned, looking around her for any signs of human life. She pressed a finger into her ear, pressing the com link- _nothing_. Not even a damned beep. She pulled it out, staring at the tiny piece of technology, and shoved it into her pant pocket. For all she knew, she could have been in the middle of some whacked out dream after being knocked out by the Shroud, or worse-in the animus. She dreaded the damned thing; she had a problem with having to relive memories-whether it be one of her ancestors or her own; they were probably the same. Courtesan Assassins throughout the centuries. Maya wasn't in the mood to relive sex with some guy in the past as her own ancestor. In the empty forest that surrounded her, there seemed to be absolutely _no _sign of human life or even a place for her to find shelter. She cursed the Order for forbidding her to use a cell phone- now would have been the perfect time to use one! The only option Maya had was to move forward to find a way to get home, but she didn't know her new environment, except that predators were active at night. The only weapon she had on her was the hidden blades that were in the bracers strapped to her wrists. She blew out a sigh of relief at the sounds of footsteps coming towards her location from just ahead of her.

Maya crept forward, cautiously, towards a bush and hid, waiting to check out the source of the footsteps before she asked for help. As the source came closer on the dirt trail just in front of her, Maya froze in confusion. She rubbed her eyes quickly and focused on the two men that now walked past her, just to make sure she wasn't imagining things. From what she could tell, they were dressed like British Redcoats from the Colonial times, and carried long rifles resembling muskets. They walked past her, and Maya stood, watching them in disbelief. Her logic came to two conclusions: either she was somehow in the Animus, or she had fallen harder on the cave floor than she thought. She reached her hand up to the back of her head, feeling for a bump-nothing. "Stop there!" She froze at the man's voice behind her.

The sound of a pistol cocking, ready to fire, caused Maya to hold up both of her hands in surrender and to show, at least to his eyes, that she wasn't armed. She slowly stood upright, and turned to a barrel of a flintlock pistol in her face, held by a man that dressed similarly to the two that had just passed. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. He looked to be just as confused as she was; and why wouldn't he? Maya remembered that in the past, someone only wore black to show they were in mourning. And, she was a woman dressed in clothing that fit snug against her body clearly showing the curves she had been born with. Maya figured she looked to be dressed extremely strange and possibly indecent to him. His stare moved to her face, and he narrowed his eyes with suspicion. Maya rolled her eyes; she had almost forgotten just how _racist _the people were against the natives during this period. "Look, I'm a bit lost-"

"Quiet!" He ordered.

Maya noticed his hand shaking slightly, and saw him swallow harshly. He was nervous. Wait, why was she acting as though looking at someone dressed like him was _normal_? "Where am I?" Maya asked.

"I said quiet!" He barked. "You will be questioned back at the fort."

This _can't _be good. Maya could not risk being held prisoner or even questioned. She remembered that the flintlocks could only be fired once, and took _forever _to be reloaded. Just enough time for her to get away. Out of the corner of her vision she could see the silhouettes of a few more men making their way towards them. "Fuck it." Maya muttered.

She slapped the hand away from her face, knocking the pistol out of his grip in the process. He reacted quickly, drawing out his sword, slicing towards her. "Whoa!" Maya squealed in surprise, barely dodging the blade. He brought his sword back towards her, but Maya blocked with one arm, and summoned her hidden blade from its bracer on the other. Out of instinct, she shoved it upwards under his throat and into his skull.

_Shit_.

Shock flashed in his eyes as his body jerked and then stilled. Maya pulled her arm back, and let the Redcoat collapse to the ground in a lifeless heap. She _didn't _want to kill him. But she had to. He had nothing to do with her appearing out of some twisted burst of light in the middle of nowhere! But taking her to a Fort for _questioning _was not an option she could take. Maya quickly wiped the blood off of her blade onto the dead soldier's jacket, and retracted the blade back into the bracer on her wrist. She could hear the footsteps rushing towards her position, and Maya turned and ran, leaving the dead redcoat behind. His backup had followed her in pursuit, screaming out commands like _Halt! Stop!, _and as she passed by a patrol of redcoats along the trail she had run on, she heard _Stop her_!

"Shit!" Maya pressed forward, trying to look for some safe place to hide. She ducked her head as she ran from the gunfire that burst from behind her, bouncing off the rock walls that lined the trail. Maya continued dodging through and around trees, bushes, and boulders until she finally saw what looked like a small town nestled in the valley below her.

The sound of boots pounding along the ground and shouts of pursuit behind her gave her more than enough motivation to take her chances with hiding out in some random building. Maya saw the trail to her right leading down towards the town and decided to take her chances and ran down the trail. Her lungs were beginning to ache and her thighs burned as her legs carried her as fast as they could. She was grateful that it was at least downhill from where she was. Each building she ran past looked to be an occupied home; and she ran past an Inn, and decided she wasn't even _possibly _going to take her chances in a public place. She broke off of the trail leading through the town after she crossed a small bridge near a lumber mill, and finally saw a property with a large stable. Maya rushed towards it, opening the door to the main barn. Her vision adjusted to the darkness in the barn and her nose filled with the stench of horse manure and hay, but she ignored it as she looked for a reasonable place to hide. She saw crates stacked near the ledge of a loft above. Maya knew that soon the soldiers would reach the property, and so she mustered up what little strength she had left and climbed the crates and pulled herself up onto the loft. She skulked back into the darkest corner she could find, trying to control her breathing and waited for signs that the redcoats had abandoned their pursuit of her.

Maya couldn't calm herself down enough to think rationally. She bent her knees up as she sat with her back against the wall, and pressed her hands against her forehead. How in the hell did she end up in a place where the British Army still dressed as Redcoats using flintlock weapons? There were no cars; the homes were all styled during the times of the Colonies, and no signs of electricity. If touching the Shroud did something to make Maya disappear in _her _time, and reappear in some other time period-Maya looked up from her hands, gazing absently at the wall in front of her. She could hear the shouts of the soldiers getting closer, bit by bit. It wouldn't be long before this weird nightmare took a turn for the worse. Maya gulped, uttering a curse. "I'm screwed."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The persistent knocking on the door was beginning to grate at Connor's nerves. This was the first time he was actually defeating Achilles at a game of _Fanorona_, and he had left Achilles with only two pieces compared to his own five pieces left on the board when the game had been interrupted by a loud knocking on the front door of the manor. Judging by the loud pounding on the door, Connor knew it had to have been an urgent matter. Achilles waited near the stairway, as Connor made it to the door, and opened it to four very exhausted redcoats. Their heavy breathing, sweat drenched faces, and how they were bent over with their hands to their knees when he opened the door to them had told Connor they had been in pursuit of someone. His eyes narrowed at them, as his adrenaline began to surge. One of the residents within the Homestead, David Walston-or Big Dave as he liked to be called-had been brought to live and work here in hope of a new life _away _from the Redcoats. Dave had been afraid the redcoats would come after him, but Connor had assured him he would help him if need be. Connor was glad he at least had the bracers still strapped to his wrists that housed his hidden blades. The redcoat in front had finally stood upright after catching his breath, "We had chased a fugitive to your property." He said between breaths. "We believe she had hid in your stables."

Connor relaxed slightly. Good; they weren't after Dave. But-_she_? "What was her crime?" Connor curiously asked them. He'd never heard of a woman that had the Redcoats pursuing her so diligently; especially since they had chased her more than likely from the patrol routes just outside of the Homestead.

"Murder." The head Redcoat answered him.

This was not something that the Homestead needed. It was a peaceful community, and Connor believed in saving those that only wanted to go about their lives. He didn't want a danger around the small community. His jaw tightened as he pushed past the four soldiers on the manor's doorstep, and he made his way towards the barn. The soldiers followed him as he walked towards the large main door of the barn. It would be a lot smarter if they had just stayed behind. But, he knew they wouldn't listen to him if he had warned them, anyway. The soldiers had the hindrance of their long rifles, as well as the large packs that were strapped to their backs that had always created a disadvantage for them that Connor had exploited more than once on past skirmishes with other soldiers. Of course, he wasn't foolish enough to reveal that to them.

He stopped just in front of the large door, and touched his fingers to the wood as his mouth turned into a frown. The door was closed before he turned in for the night-he closed it himself-and now, it was slightly ajar. His eyes scanned the ground at his feet, and he knelt down examining the odd footprints leading into the barn. The prints were oddly grooved, unlike any Connor had ever seen. The sole of the intruder's boot had thick zig-zagged grooves imprinted into the dirt. Who would have such a weird shape to the sole of their boots? He had almost forgotten about the soldiers behind him as he stood. Turning his head to look at them, Connor held his hand up. "Stay here. I will search the barn. You all will only overcrowd the limited space and cause more problems." He told them.

He didn't give them any time to protest his order, as he opened the door and stepped inside. His vision adjusted from the darkness within the barn to a lighter hue, bringing the figures of the horses within their stalls to a bright blue, as he activated the sixth sense he had been gifted with since birth. Achilles had told him he inherited it from his ancestors, since he had descended from the first hybrid humans. It was a gift of _knowledge_, as Achilles had put it. The sixth sense had illuminated targets, living or not, a bright golden color, and had made it easier to see in pitch black areas; it's what made his ancestry such deadly assassins. His hearing had also amplified slightly to assist his enhanced vision. The sound of one of the horses pawing at the ground, the wind beginning to blow outside of the barn, the crickets outside chirping their songs into the night; and as his eyes moved up towards the loft, he heard it: a faint shuffle along the floor above him.

* * *

Maya silently thanked her ancestors for the eagle sense she was gifted with. The figures that entered the barn-_five_, Maya counted-stood just beneath the ledge of the loft she had hid on. Four of the redcoats that chased her into this mess, and another person that had accompanied them into the barn. Maya steeled her nerves as she clenched her fists ready for a fight. She wished she had her chain whip, but she left the blasted thing back at the makeshift camp on Easter Island. It would have been easier to fight them with it from her position. Now, she was cornered. She should have known those idiots would find her there. At least they were stupid enough to pack themselves into the already small space with the gear they had packed on them. Her fight or flight instinct kicked in, and she decided the four redcoats would either need to die, or be severely disabled, for her to get away.

But the other figure caused Maya to hesitate. From what she could tell, he looked unarmed, wearing only a blouse and trousers with boots on his feet. He was more than likely the owner of the property coming to investigate what the Redcoats were after. The only reason Maya's eagle vision had him in red was because she couldn't tell if he were friend or foe; she couldn't read him. Her prayers were answered as two of the redcoats walked to stand directly under where she stood. She could quickly take them out, finish the other two and run without hurting the unarmed man-assuming he wasn't there to kill her.

It was now or never. Maya summoned forth her hidden blades on the holsters strapped to her wrists, pointing downward, and leapt off the ledge of the loft with grace and ease. It was a move she had done too many times on targets in the past. The two poor sods didn't have the time to scream when they looked up as Maya's blades slammed into their throats, mercifully ending their lives instantly. Their bodies went down to the ground along with her as she landed to her feet in a crouch. She pulled the blades out of the corpses with a yank, and as she stood, she shoved her blades upwards into the chests of the other two redcoats as they turned to see what had happened. As Maya pulled her hands back and retracted the blades into their bracers, she felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rise with the sudden tension that rushed towards her.

The last man standing must have grabbed a pistol from one of the first two soldiers Maya had put down. Damn! How many pistols would be pointed at her before the night was over? She heard the cock of the flintlock, "Don't. Move." The hard, flat tone in his voice hit Maya with a reality check.

He was going to kill her. Her adrenaline surged, and Assassin-mode kicked into overdrive. _No can do_, Maya thought with a sneer. She reacted quickly, turning her upper body back towards him, leaning back to avoid the barrel of the pistol. Reaching around with one hand, she grabbed the pistol and twisted it out of his grip. Her hand kept a grip onto his outstretched arm, and before he could react, Maya grabbed the collar of his shirt with her other hand, and turned, throwing him to the ground at her front.

She needed a plan. Maya couldn't spend her whole time wherever-_whenever_-she was, on the run. The stranger may let her reason with him. He was on his feet in a swift movement, and although Maya had converted back to her normal vision in the darkness of the barn, she could feel the anger roll off of him in waves. Let her _reason _with him? Fat chance. Turning, Maya bolted for the door, but he lunged without warning. His hand was on her arm in an instant, and Maya turned on him thrusting her other fist to his face, but the stranger blocked it with his other hand, keeping a grip on her fist. _Dammit_!

In a blur of motion, he had her pinned face first against the wall of the barn near the door to her freedom. The tip of a blade was at her throat and her head turned forcefully to him. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" He demanded.

There was no wariness in his voice; only irritation and anger. Maya was close to going into a rabid rage. She _hated _having the disadvantage, and she _sure _as hell hated to be touched. She struggled against him, looking for a loophole to work her way out of his grip. "Get your fucking hands off me!" She shouted.

His grip on her suddenly loosened as if he was startled or surprised. _Good_. Maya shifted, and threw her elbow back into his gut. He doubled over with a grunt, releasing her. She turned to face him; this time, she wasn't going to give him the opportunity. Maya threw a kick to his side, and felt her knuckles crack as her fist slammed into his face. Her adrenaline fueled her as she prepared to throw another punch at him, but the stranger quickly recovered to block it. Jesus-he wasn't going to _stop_! He crouched slightly, swinging his arm at the back of her legs, sweeping her to the ground. Maya was caught off guard, and pain throbbed in the back of her head when she fell back onto the hard wooden floor beneath her. He moved to stand over her, but she reached over with her hand, gripping his lower leg. She moved one of her legs behind him while the other moved to his front, and she used both legs to take him down with her.

One of her hidden blades snapped into her hand from its bracer on her wrist, and she twisted it to grip at the handle tightly in her hand. Maya rolled quickly and was straddling his hips, pressing her thighs tightly at his sides. As she leaned down towards him and pressed the blade to his throat, his eyes only widened with surprise. Something pulled at her mental shields she always used to barricade any emotion from her mind as she suddenly became aware of the man she had beneath her. _Don't_, Maya told herself. She couldn't afford to feel emotions. A tingling sensation flowed from her fingertips to her hands and then moved its way up her arms in tendrils.

Her brow furrowed momentarily and she resisted the urge to check her arms to make sure nothing was crawling on them. Maya's eyes narrowed to slits as she fixated onto the target beneath her. "_May you find peace in the arms of your Creator_," The line she used on her targets before she delivered their deaths automatically fell from her lips in her native Rapa Nui language.

She lifted her hand that held the blade slightly to bring it back down onto him, but he grabbed her wrists, and moved her blade wielding hand to the side, giving it a hard rough shake. He let out a sound of irritation when he realized that Maya was _not _giving up her blade. He rolled her over and pinned her wrists above her head. "Hey!" Maya yelped in surprise.

He used one hand to keep her hands pinned, and grabbed her blade with the other. Maya watched as he pulled the blade closer to his face to examine it. She struggled against him, but the weight of his body kept her pinned. "Stop!" He demanded as he shoved the blade tip first, into the wood next to them.

_Who the hell does he think he is_? And damn it, why was her heart racing as his fingers made contact with her skin, pulling the sleeves back to expose her-_oh shit_. "No!" Maya screamed.

She couldn't let him see the bracers. Their designs that were branded into the leather were those that any Templar would know; they would be able to tell what she was. And by the way his eyes widened at the designs on her bracers, and then narrowing to a hard glare at her, he knew it as well. "You're an _Assassin_?"

* * *

"Who the hell are you?" The woman snarled at him.

She could fight, that was for sure. Connor had been shocked when she leapt down from the loft, killing all four guards in a matter of seconds. It was no wonder that they were after her. He did not doubt that she had killed one of the redcoats outside the Homestead's borders. Sure, she had been using hidden blades from the minute she appeared; but so had his father. For all he knew, she could have been a Templar spy for Haytham, sent to kill him and Achilles. But, when Connor looked at the blade she intended to kill him with, he saw intricate carvings that were almost identical with the carvings that adorned his own hidden blades; and when he pulled back her sleeves to reveal the bracers-well, the designs branded within the leather of the bracers definitely revealed her identity as an Assassin.

At first, Connor only intended to restrain her. But he became easily irritated when she turned on him. He obviously had underestimated her, but for a woman her size, he didn't think she'd have the skills to match his. And he wasn't going to let her out to kill anyone within the Homestead; especially when she seemed to have no remorse killing the redcoats within the barn. Connor would have killed them had they been after him, but only if they had shown intent on killing him first; and then, she turned to kill him! His attention turned back to the woman underneath him. She was _furious_. Connor kept her hands pinned above her head, as he used his body weight to keep her body pinned beneath his. "Answer my question!" He demanded.

"_Fuck _you!"

_What_?

Now, that was a word Connor had never heard before. She had such venom laced in her words that she hurled at him, that it nearly shocked him. Her features hardened with anger, as she bucked her hips attempting to roll him over to gain the advantage. Her gaze was feral and fierce; her hair had spilled like black silk around her head on the wooden floor beneath her. He noticed a golden tint to her eyes that looked as though they could see right through him. Sure, she was rather attractive, but the fact that she was trying to kill him had slapped him with reality. "Let. Me. Go." She ordered through clenched teeth.

"Not until you answer the question. Are you an assassin?"

"I didn't come to kill you if that's what you're asking. But you can suck a shot-gun if you think I'm going to tell you anything!" She answered him.

_Suck a shot-gun_? Connor's brow furrowed as he flinched his head back slightly to study her. What in the world did _that _mean? Her breasts were crushed against him, but he could feel her chest rising and falling with each breath. The words she used had distracted him enough for her to work her leg in between them. She planted her foot to his chest, flipping him up and over her onto his own back. Her moves were a blur as she grabbed the blade he stabbed into the wooden floor next to them, and she slammed her foot to his chest, pinning him as she stood over him. _Damn!_

Her blade pointed down to him, as she spoke. "Look, you're going to let me go, and no one gets hurt. I _never _wanted to hurt anyone in the first place, but I was left with _no choice_!" Her expression flashed with a hint of regret, but disappeared as quickly as it came, when the amber hue of her eyes darkened with anger. "First, you will answer this; where the _hell _am I?"

A brow rose quizzically as he gazed up at her. Connor swallowed and decided to at least answer. "You are in the countryside near Boston. This is a small community called Homestead Davenport."

The stiffness in her posture loosened slightly as shock washed over her features. She recovered quickly, pointing the blade at him again, "And, your name?"

He contemplated answering that question for her. But he had a burning curiosity to know whether or not she _was _an assassin, and he knew she wouldn't answer unless he complied. If she happened to be an Assassin, Connor could use the help. If not...well, Connor would have to decide what to do with her then. She glared at him, waiting for an answer. "Connor," He replied. "Connor Kenway."

* * *

_You have __**got **__to be kidding me._

Maya nearly lost grip of the blade in her hand. There was _no _way she had _the _Connor Kenway pinned beneath the sole of her boot. And, Homestead Davenport; the headquarters for the Colonial Brotherhood that _mysteriously _disappeared before the Civil War? What the _hell _was going on? The tingling that ran in small tendrils up her arms came back, surprising her to the point where she dropped her blade onto the ground, and backed away from the man she had pinned on the floor. She quickly shoved the sleeves of her shirt up on her arms to see if anything was crawling on her skin. Her back planted against the wall of the barn as she averted her eyes to study her arms. It almost looked as though faint lines appeared, tracing along her skin. The sensation faded as the lines disappeared. Something was _seriously _screwed up; she _had _to be in some whacked dream-correction-_nightmare_.

She heard his feet shuffle along the wooden floor as he stood. He walked to stand in front of her, with the blade she held in his hand. _Connor Kenway_. Maya gulped as she gazed up at him; he was a legend within her Order. He was responsible for just about every single event within the Revolutionary era; the direct ancestor of Desmond Miles, and a descendant of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and Ezio Auditore. His lineage had a serious impact on the Order at pivotal points within history, ensuring it never fell during the ongoing war with the Templars. And he was standing _right _in front of her.

His espresso colored eyes studied her with curiosity, but his body stiffened as though he was prepared for her to attack him again. The words of Minerva before Maya had blacked out, had roared in her mind..._embark on your true destiny set out for you and for the world around you. _She remembered the symbol for the number nine, that was engraved on the stone case that held the Shroud. Maya knew the number nine had symbolized _great change_. The Order believed the Shroud held a massive power that they still did not understand. What the hell? What did the artifact _do _to her? His voice was calm as he spoke, interrupting her thoughts, "Who are you?"

Maya looked up at him, and steeled herself to answer him. "My name is Maya Hotu," She winced at the hoarseness in her throat. She held her chin up in a show of confidence, "And to answer your question, _yes_, I am an Assassin."

He tilted his head, looking at her as though she was some stupid freak of nature. But, she couldn't help but feel intimidated by his presence. Her education had consisted of the history of the Assassins, the _truth_, in contrast to what the public believed. Connor Kenway had been idolized within the Order. Maya idolized him. He still looked rather young; his black hair was loose, falling around his face as he studied her. She could almost see the strong muscles of his broad shoulders and the chiseled defined chest underneath his blouse-Maya gave her head a sharp shake. _Get a grip_! She set her jaw as she looked up at him, but continued to feel as though she wanted to shrink and hide. But, she was determined to not be intimidated by _anyone_. "What are you doing here?" He asked, as he twirled the blade in his hand and held it to her, handle first.

Maya snatched her weapon from his hand, and placed it back into its bracer on her wrist. How the _hell _was she going to answer that question? Unless Achilles educated him on the First Civilization, and if he _truly _believed it, her answer would make her seem like a whack job. Maya lifted her shoulder in a shrug, "I just...woke up here."

"Woke...up?" He forced out the words as though she gave him a lame excuse.

She shot him a glance, as her eyes narrowed. "_Yes_," She spat out. "I just _woke up _in this god forsaken place!" _Jerk_. Maya squared her shoulders. "I'm part of the Pacific Cell of the Assassins. I was looking for the Shroud of Turin, and ended up here. Don't _ask _me how, because I don't _know _how!"

The amused, yet wary look he gave her only pissed her off. Maya should be in awe, standing in front of the legendary Assassin, however he not only attempted to kill her, but he held himself with an arrogance that she never could stand in a man. _Men_, she thought with a sneer. _They're all the same_. At least his eyes kept off her chest; she'll give him that much. But he only stared at her, lifting an ebony brow up in question. Maya dropped her arms to her sides, and rolled her eyes at him. "What the _hell _are you staring at?" She snapped at him. "I need your help. I got stuck here somehow, and the stupid hologram wench Minerva told me that if I took the artifact, I would be placed on some _destiny _bullshit."

That got his attention. He stepped back, as his eyes widened slightly, but then suspicion came over his features. "Minerva? Of the First Civilization?" He asked her.

_Good for you_!, Maya thought. Damn, she needed to stop being such a _bitch_. But, Maya couldn't help herself; it was her defense, her shield, which she used to avoid anyone from working their way in. "Duh!"

He shook his head slowly, as he placed his hands on his hips. He turned, looking back at the bodies that remained on the floor of the barn, thanks to her. As he turned back to her, Maya saw his eyes darken, the amusement gone. "I will take you to someone who can possibly help you. But," He jabbed his finger at her, "If you try anything foolish, I _will _take you down. Understood?"

Maya scoffed at his threat. "I'd like to see you try." She rolled her shoulders, and held her chin up in defiance. "Just take me to someone who can help me. I'm not going to do anything unless anyone tries any shit with me."

They stared at each other for a moment, and Maya felt her stomach flutter at the tension between them. She just shrugged it off, as he turned away and led her out of the barn. Maya followed him along the worn path towards a house on the property just outside the barn. She combed her long hair back, and twisted it into a bun and tied it as best as she could. The thought of being at Davenport, with a walking and talking legend, began to sink into Maya's head. Whatever the Shroud did, it probably put her here for a reason. But, since the First Civilization were cryptic _assholes_, having to figure _out _that reason was the tricky part.

_Screw you, Minerva!_, Maya thought to herself.


End file.
